


it always lingers

by Rhiannon87



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9485534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: Cassandra and Gilmore have a talk while he's recuperating in the castle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from World Coming Down by Type O Negative, Matt's chosen song for Cassandra. This is another entry in my ongoing unofficial series in which Cassandra is befriended by every friendly NPC Percy drops on her doorstep.

It was easier to deal with everything when she could keep busy. And lucky for Cassandra, there was plenty to do: getting the refugees settled, taking care of the castle’s many guests, overseeing the town’s reconstruction, the list went on and on. So on the good days, Cass woke up early and ran herself hard all day, fell into bed when she was too exhausted to let herself think.

And then there were days like this, when all the competent people she’d surrounded herself with were doing their jobs perfectly well without her help. Cass had managed to fill half the morning with busywork, making lists and signing contracts and triple-checking the budgets. But even that ran out eventually, leaving her sitting at the desk in Father’s study--no. Her study now. Even if it didn’t feel like it, even if she still felt like a little girl playing pretend.

With a sigh, she pushed back from the desk and headed out into the halls without much of a destination in mind. Her steps echoed off the stone as she walked, but it was still too quiet to do anything to drown out the memories that came creeping in. The look on Percy’s face when she’d declared herself a Briarwood. The way Delilah had gazed at her at the end, with an expression that was almost something like love. The sound of her own voice screaming into the night, calling out for her brother to help her, and hearing nothing but the wind in reply.

Cass pushed a door open and started up the stairs. The west tower, then. All right. A perfectly fine place to sit and brood, she supposed. Or at least, no worse than any of her other options.

The crisp breeze swept her hair back as she stepped outside and walked to the edge of the tower. There was more sun than clouds today, and the forests of Whitestone stretched out in a vast carpet of green up the mountains, a comfortingly familiar sight. Cass rested her arms on the balustrade and sighed, and for a few moments, the beauty of her homeland was able to quiet her thoughts.

A muffled cough in the stairway behind her sent her whirling around, reaching for a blade she didn’t yet trust herself to carry. She needed to get over that hangup, and soon, Cass decided, and marched back to the door.

“Hello?” she called as she pulled the door open, squinting down into the dimness.

“Ah. Hello.” A sonorous but winded voice replied, coming from the man leaning heavily against the wall about two-thirds of the way up. “I apologize, I didn’t realize this tower would be such a popular spot… or so damnably high.”

Gilmore. Cass hadn’t spoken to him much in the week or so since he’d arrived. She’d stopped by to welcome him, and he’d thanked her profusely for her hospitality, but for the most part he’d stayed in his guest room, recuperating. “Are you all right?” she asked, descending a few steps towards him.

“I will be,” he said. “Got a bit bored of sitting in my room--though it is lovely--and thought I’d take a walk. Get some fresh air.” He let out a slow, pained breath and smiled sheepishly. “I think I rather overestimated my energy.”

Cass made it to his side and held an arm out. “Do you want to keep heading up, or should I help you back to your room?”

“Oh, I’ve made it this far already.” Gilmore put his hand on her arm and pulled himself upright, leaning against her as he did so. “May as well sit down and recover my strength somewhere with a view, hm?”

He gave her a broad grin, and Cass smiled back in spite of herself. “It is quite a view,” she agreed, and began to slowly help him up the stairs.

Gilmore was breathing heavily by the time they made it, but he still straightened up and looked around, eyes wide. “Oh, now, this was worth it,” he said. “Although I think I might enjoy it better if there was somewhere to sit…?”

“Of course.” Cass guided him to a low stone bench by one of the walls, and he sank onto it with a pained groan.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said as she stepped away. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a few moments. Before Cass could figure out what to say or how to make a stealthy escape, he opened his eyes and looked around again. “This really is a marvelous place,” he said. “I’d never been to Whitestone before this, which was clearly an oversight on my part.”

“Thank you,” Cass said. She worried at her lower lip for a moment, hesitating. He definitely seemed open to conversation, and it would be rude of her to just leave him up here alone. “You, um, you’re from Emon, right?”

“That was my most recent previous address, yes,” Gilmore said.

Cass hesitated again. “What--What was it like?” she asked. “Before the dragons and everything.”

He smiled, eyes going distant and fond. “It was… vast,” he said. “I think you could have lived an elf’s lifetime there and still found streets you’d never seen before. Sometimes it felt like you could get a feel for the whole world in Emon, there were so many people from so many places.”

“I wish I could have seen it.” Her voice came out with much more longing than she’d expected. Even from that brief description, it sounded incredible… and now it was gone.

Gilmore tilted his head to the side, studying her. “You never got to visit?”

“No. I… I’ve actually never left Whitestone.” It was a little embarrassing to admit, to someone who’d clearly seen so much of the world. “I was only fourteen when… when the attack came, and since then there hasn’t been much opportunity for travel.” She gave a small, tense smile and looked away.

“No, of course not,” he said, still giving her that thoughtful look. “Though you’re young enough that you’ll live to see Emon rebuilt. And there will be plenty of time for travel in the future.”

Cass shrugged. “I have responsibilities here.”

“That, my lady, is what brothers are for,” he said with a grin. “Young Percival won’t always be off slaying dragons. He’ll come back here eventually. And that’s when you leave him a letter telling him he’s in charge and steal away into the night.”

She laughed, turning the idea over in her head. There was appeal to it, no doubt, and once the world wasn’t in mortal peril… She’d hate to take Percy from his friends, but he had just as many responsibilities to Whitestone as she did. He’d have to pick them up one day. “Perhaps,” she said. “It’s a nice thought.”

Gilmore raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “I’m more than happy to reprimand your brother for shirking his responsibilities,” he said, and despite his sideways smile Cass could tell he meant it. “I’m quite sure I have scolding rights where he’s concerned.”

Cass shook her head. “He has his own responsibilities now,” she said. “The dragons, tracking down allies, finding Doctor Ripley--”

The name felt sour in her mouth, and Cass winced in spite of herself. Gilmore frowned. “Who’s that?” he asked. “Some connection to our dragon problem?”

Stupid. Shouldn’t have mentioned her. Percy had promised he’d find her, eliminate the last of the murderers who’d taken their family away, and Cass held to that like a lifeline. As long as Ripley was alive out there, Cass couldn’t quite shake the fear that the doctor would simply turn up again, stalking the halls and staring at her like a specimen under glass. So the woman remained on her mental tally of Percy’s tasks, even if he’d had to put that quest on hold for a time.

“No, no connection to the dragons,” Cass replied slowly. “She… was one of the people who helped the Briarwoods.” _She tortured my mother to death. She tortured my brother and left him locked up beside the corpses of our brothers. She had townsfolk kidnapped so she could use them in her tests and I told her who to target--_

“Ah.” Gilmore’s frown turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I heard some of what happened here, from Percy and the others. It’s impressive, truly, that you were able to survive here for so long.”

Cass let out a strangled, almost hysterical laugh, the sound escaping briefly before she clapped a hand to her mouth. Gilmore looked a little alarmed, and she shook her head. “Not that impressive,” she said. “The Briarwoods kept me alive and well in here,” she waved a hand at the castle below them, “for the last three years.”

“A prisoner?”

“More or less.” Was she really, though? Had Sylas and Delilah actually kept her here by force and fear, or was she staying willingly, by the end? They left her unattended for days, she could have just walked out of the castle and left Whitestone behind. They might have found her, might have killed her, but she also might have been able to escape. What had kept her from trying: terror or comfort?

Gilmore tilted his head at the open space on the bench beside him, and Cass sank down without hesitation, resting her elbows on her knees. She didn’t look much like the capable noblewoman she tried to be, she knew it, but somehow she felt like Gilmore wouldn’t hold it against her. “I did terrible things while I was here,” she said, gaze fixed on the stone tiles under her feet. “People died because of what I did.” _I’m a traitor and a monster and no one talks about it and it’s eating me alive--_

“People in terrible situations often do terrible things to survive,” Gilmore said. “You’re not alone in that.”

Keyleth had said something similar, in the aftermath, and it hadn’t made a difference then. Gilmore meant well, but… “I’m a de Rolo,” Cass said, hating the echo of her own words in her head as she spoke. _I’m a Briarwood now._ “We have to meet a higher standard.”

“Higher than the rest of us mere mortals?” Gilmore asked archly.

Cass winced. “No, I didn’t-- I didn’t mean--”

“I know,” he said and lightly elbowed her in the side. A surprisingly friendly gesture, and for some bizarre reason it nearly made her burst into tears. “I’ve known a number of nobles in my time, and I think that ‘higher standard’ is the cause of a great many problems. Yes, you have money and power and probably training to deal with all the finer details of rule,” he waved a hand at the forest before them, encompassing Whitestone in a gesture. “But you are still people, made up of the same parts as all the rest of us. And you, my lady, are a person who went through something horrible. You can be a bit gentler with yourself.”

She didn’t deserve gentleness. She didn’t deserve any of this, not after everything she’d done. And if she let herself slip, let herself have the breakdown that always seemed to be lurking at the edges of her mind, there’d be no one to pick up the pieces. Whitestone was free, she’d gotten one brother back from the dead, but she was still terribly alone. “Thank you,” she said. “For listening. I’m sure this wasn’t your plan when you decided to go for a walk.”

“No, but I can’t say I regret it.” Gilmore gave her a broad smile and slowly got to his feet. “Always nice to get better acquainted with one’s generous host.” He turned back towards the door, and Cass instinctively stepped forward and took his arm again. “What do you say we have lunch and I tell you as many embarrassing stories about your brother and his friends as I can remember?”

Cass chuckled and smiled back. “That sounds like a wonderful plan.”


End file.
